


[NIGHTMARE]

by The_Crawling_Chaos



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angry TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Angst, Cursed Armor, Curses, Dark, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, I’m not sorry, Manipulative Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Mind Manipulation, One Shot, Prison, Short & Sweet, TommyInnit Hears Voices (Video Blogging RPF), Villain Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), tommy is traumatized and shows it in the worst ways possible, yup dream’s armor is called nightmare and it’s cursed go figure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:49:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29287851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Crawling_Chaos/pseuds/The_Crawling_Chaos
Summary: Tommy puts on Dream’s armor after grabbing it from the two block deep pit.He kills Dream twice, and relishes in it. He has finally won against the green bastard....and it feels so good.But, of course, there must always be a catch. There is a curse lurking underneath the armor’s surface, and Dream is very pleased indeed with its progress.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 129





	[NIGHTMARE]

**Author's Note:**

> i can’t believe that there are no cursed armor fics yet for this fandom......i am ashamed. i came up with this idea at 5 am, so pardon my horrible execution and story structure. 
> 
> :)

It started right after Tommy put on Dream’s armor. 

He grabbed it right up from the two block deep pit, and greedily adorned himself in its beautifully designed edges. It seemed to fit his lithe form perfectly, despite belonging to a very muscular Dream just a second earlier. 

The armor’s inside was engraved with a simple name:  _ [Nightmare]  _

Tommy had to resist a bout of maniacal laughter. He felt like a living war machine in Dream’s armor. It was bulky and powerful, but almost weightless when he moved. No wonder Dream never took it off; why would you want to? 

But, the armor wasn’t all that Tommy had obtained from the pit. He also picked up Dream’s battle axe and tools, which were all predictably maxed out in terms of enchantments. He would never have to go grinding for weapons or tools again! 

Tommy had enough of admiring his new gear. He stalked towards Dream with clear intention; _revenge._ Ice cold revenge for all the traumatizing and terrible things that had been done to him since the first disc war. Not just to him in fact, no, he would be the avenging angel for _everyone_ in the Vault behind him. Dream had wronged them all in some way shape or form, and he would rectify all that today. _Right now._

He lovingly slid his hands down the axe’s smooth handle. Dream’s poisonous green eyes wandered to his own weapon, now in the clutches of his most dangerous nemesis. And....he liked what he saw. 

Dream held his hands out and over his head, cowering as Tommy came ever closer. 

“Tommy, you won’t kill me!” 

“Hah, and why is that? I have every single fucking reason to kill you, Dream. And now I can, with this lovely axe you gave me.” 

The green bastard coughed out a weak laugh. “Because we’re friends! I was the only one to visit you when everyone else had given up on you! We’re friends!” 

It was Tommy’s turn to laugh. “Friends? We were _never_ friends Dream. You used me, you watched me, and then you tried to kill me! You blew up L’manburg and then tried to kill _Tubbo_ in _front_ of me! That isn’t what I would call a very healthy friendship!” 

Tommy took a hearty swing of his axe at Dream. It was predictably dodged, but Tommy wasn’t dissuaded. He kept lunging at Dream, who eventually tripped over his own feet in the frenzy to get away. 

“Tommy, stop! Don’t kill me!” 

There was no recognition in Tommy’s face; it was almost like he couldn’t hear Dream over the raging symphony in his own head. 

If Dream’s mask had still been on, he would’ve smiled. His child rival had such a livid expression, and it looked so natural on his face. And the armor adapted so quickly to its new owner. Dream almost broke character to announce his victory right then and there. All according to plan. 

With a few more desperate pleas, Dream evaporated from a single well placed stroke of the axe. 

Tommy cried out with satisfaction. He felt so much better, like a weight had been lifted off of his chest! Nothing had quite compared to striking down his most hated enemy with extreme prejudice. 

And he could do it all over again. Dream still had two lives left. That was two lives too many. 

Dream vehemently protested as Tommy approached. He dragged the axe’s brutal tip on the blackstone floor, creating a terrible screeching as he called after Dream. 

“Oh Dream, come back here! I have an axe that I need to acquaint with your face!” 

Tommy wanted to laugh again. He wanted to release a menacing yet animalistic hyena sound that vaguely resembled a laugh. It bubbled just underneath the surface, only encouraged by the complete and utter silence of the Vault around him. 

But, it wasn’t all quiet. He could hear....voices. He hadn’t ever heard them before, but now that he was so close to Dream and wearing his own suit of armor and wielding his specially crafted tools....he could hear them. 

Most of them were speaking a language he couldn’t make sense of. It sounded like warped garbles, and he didn’t very much care for these voices. But the ones he could understand....

They were telling him to exact revenge. 

To take what he wanted. 

To kill his hated enemy and drink his blood as a warning to all others that would oppose him. 

To never be weak again, to never be at anyone’s mercy. 

To control, to puppeteer, to mold in his own image. 

And just for a moment, a single fleeting moment, Tommy gave in. He let the voices wash over him, and he felt their sinister embrace cling onto him. 

Dream went up in smoke, but not before enduring excruciating agony at the tip of his own crossbow. Arrows dug their way in past his delicate flesh and burned him up inside. He fell to the cold floor, swathed in Tommy’s formidable shadow. 

But the sight that eased Dream into his next respawn cycle was Tommy’s blazing eyes. They were no longer purely a brilliant sky blue, untouched by the eroding influence of time or trauma. 

No, the eyes that stared back at him were speckled with poisonous _green._

All according to plan. 

But Dream didn’t die a third and final time, as Tommy wanted. No, he would be locked away in Pandora’s Vault, the inescapable prison that Dream had personally helped design. Where he would be left to rot, cold and alone like the villain they all knew he was. 

But Dream knew that Tommy would be there to visit him. After all, he had done the same for him in exile....it just wouldn’t be right to not return the favor. 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

Tommy noticed it after he had been wearing the armor for a few days. 

He increasingly felt distressed at the thought of taking it off, and started referring to it as _his_ armor. Not the armor that he had stolen off of Dream, no, _his armor._ His rightful property, his _beloved_ property. It would keep him safe, keep him protected against all the horrors of the SMP that wanted to control and kill him. It belonged to him now, and nobody, not even Tubbo, would take it from him. 

The problem became startlingly evident when Tommy went to visit Dream in prison. 

“You must place all of your armor and inventory into the storage locker, and then proceed into the decontamination chamber.” 

Tommy nodded at Sam, the stone faced warden, and unloaded all of his ~~_preciousbelovedbeautiful_~~ valuable items into the locker. But, he didn’t think to take off his armor. It was part of his body, part of his defense, how could he remove it? 

Sam didn’t like that. Not one bit. 

“I said _all_ of your inventory. That includes armor, Tommy.” 

Tommy absently rubbed the sharp shoulder guards of his armor nervously. He ~~_couldn’t_ ~~didn’t want to leave behind his lovely gear....

“It will be perfectly safe in the storage locker, I assure you. Nothing can get in or out, not even me.” 

Tommy finally managed to relax enough to place all of his armor into the chest. The moment it was no longer touching his skin, Tommy felt a wave of fresh air that somehow seemed lighter and less busy with buzzing noise. He could hear more clearly, with the voices gone from his brain. 

He quickly forgot about his freedom, however, as they went through the rest of the prison’s lengthy safety procedures. Tommy was just about worn out by the time they actually got to the lava curtain that shielded the first prisoner from the Warden and his visitor. 

“Remember, you may call for me at any time if the prisoner attempts to hurt you or himself. I will be watching from the central control room.” 

Tommy nodded, only half way listening to Sam’s voice. He was transfixed by the lava draining and revealing the maximum security obsidian box that Dream was trapped in. 

Before he knew it, he was standing on a moving honey box, slowly floating over to have a nice little chat with his worst enemy. 

The first thing he noticed about Dream was how calm he was. He seemed totally subdued and unemotional; almost like he was at home inside of the prison. He softly flitted about his cell without a care in the world, and it confused Tommy. Shouldn’t he be.....a little more angry that Tommy trapped him in a small cage for the rest of his natural life? 

“Tommy.” Dream’s voice snapped him out of his stupor. 

“Oh yes, hello green bastard. How are you doing in this wonderful cell of yours?” 

Dream smiled slightly, which pleasantly crinkled his eyes and rumpled his freckled features. “I’m doing fine. I have a clock, and a chest full of all my belongings!” 

He led Tommy over to an item frame that held a single clock, and a chest that did indeed house all of Dream’s worldly possessions. 

Tommy eagerly opened the chest and saw the empty books all haphazardly thrown about inside. Writer Dream was back in action, hm? 

Just as he was about to scribble something delightfully childish about women or something in one of the books, Dream cleared his throat. 

“Is there anything.....specific you’ve come to talk to me about?” 

The look Dream was giving Tommy was strange. It was expectant, like he was waiting for Tommy to give a very particular answer. 

“Uh.....no? I just wanted to see how you’re doing _all alone_ in this prison. It must be horrible, being so lonely with only me as your last remaining friend.” 

Dream chuckled lowly, which was not the response Tommy was hoping for. 

“I do see the irony in that, Tommy. I’m not blind. But....I was hoping that you’d come to ask me about....my armor.” 

Tommy immediately stiffened right up and leveled his unblinking glare directly into Dream’s venomous green gaze. 

“It’s not your armor anymore, it’s _mine._ I took it from you after you threw it down in the pit. Don’t you remember?” 

“Of course I remember. And I’m sure we both recall what happened afterwards.” 

Yes. The merciless taking of two of Dream’s lives. A bloody affair that would leave Dream permanently scarred. 

“Yeah.” 

“You sure you don’t have any.....questions about it then? About why you suddenly felt so compelled to scrub me from the face of the earth? And about why you feel such an unnaturally strong attachment to the armor you now own?” 

Tommy thought it over. Now that Dream had mentioned it, he did have a few questions. But that didn’t mean he had to like it. 

“Stop being so goddamn cryptic and just spit it out already!” 

Dream smiled again, but this time he was more outwardly malevolent. Deception was pointless; transparency would finally have its day. 

“The armor I used to wear, and the armor you now rightfully claim, is cursed. It attracts powerful, worthy wearers to adorn it, and urges them to do its bidding. The voices, Tommy.” Dream tapped his own head. “Where did you think they came from?” 

Tommy gaped, suddenly rooted to the spot. Dream’s armor was _cursed?_ What the _hell._

“Is that why you’re such an utter asshole? All because of an armor set?” 

Dream laughed, mildly amused by the sentiment. “I couldn’t say whether or not all of what I did was because of the curse, but I can tell you that I don’t care. It is irrelevant to me. And it will be irrelevant to you too soon enough.” 

Tommy’s eyes widened. “No, I don’t want to do terrible things all because some crazy enchanted gear told me to. I’m not you, I’m stronger than you; I care about people.” 

“Oh you do, huh? I didn’t realize after you _slaughtered_ me _twice_ in front of all those people. You enjoyed it, Tommy. You wanted me gone, obliterated into a thousand bloody pieces. You used my axe to do it, and my crossbow as well. You _tortured_ me even, stomping on the arrows so they would go in deeper and leave a scar!” 

Dream paused to step towards Tommy. He put a gentle hand on his shivering shoulder. 

“You gave in to the curse when you killed me, and now it will continue to plague you as long as you wear the armor. It belongs to you now, Tommy, and it will consume you eventually.” 

Tommy hit Dream’s hand away. “No, I won’t let it! I’ll put the armor away forever, I’ll never wear it again!” 

Dream smiled sweetly, acidic honey dripping out of his eyes. “But it’s already effected you, and you can’t reverse it. If you don’t believe me, take a look.” 

Dream gave Tommy a hand held mirror that was scratched up and old looking. But it reflected his face just fine. 

It was him. Scraggly blond hair, bandages, straight teeth with newly removed braces, blue eyes.....

Wait. 

_ No.  _

His eyes weren’t just blue. 

_ They were green.  _

Flecks of insidious lime green invaded the baby blue of his eyes, and Tommy felt tears suddenly well up. 

“My reign as the SMP’s shadow hand has ended, but yours has hardly even begun.”


End file.
